The Baby at 221B Baker Street
by Tiffany Rayn
Summary: When Dr. John Watson entered 221B Baker Street that last thing he expects to find it his flatmate Sherlock Holmes, one of the most beautiful and irritating men he has ever meet in his life, asleep on the couch with a baby in his arms.
1. Welcome Home, Daddy

The Baby at 221B Baker Street

Summary: When Dr. John Watson entered 221B Baker Street that last thing he expects to find it his flatmate Sherlock Holmes, one of the most beautiful and irritating men he has ever meet in his life, asleep on the couch with a baby in his arms.

Pairing: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes or Johnlock with Parentlock

Author's Note: Hello my good fellows, welcome to my story. This fic was inspired by a piece of fanart I saw on a Sherlockian facebook page earlier this month. I hope you enjoy and will review or share it with a friend.

CHAPTER 1: Welcome Home, Daddy

"A family is a place where principles are hammered

and honed on the anvil of everyday living."

-Charles Swindoll

When Dr. John Watson walked into 221B Baker Street in London, England on a particularly rainy Friday the last thing he ever expected to find was his flatmate Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, laying asleep on the couch holding a tiny baby against his chest and sleeping soundlessly. The detective was in his dark blue dressing gown and a pair of gray silk sleeping pants. He wasn't wearing a shirt, Watson observed, and the robe was gapped open with the baby lying directly against the smooth white skin of his chest. Nothing really unusual about the scene, Sherlock often napped in the middle of the day when they had no cases, except for the baby.

He walked closer and couldn't help but notice how quaint the scene was and just how adorable Sherlock looked holding the child. His face was turned toward the back of the couch so John had to step around to get a look at him. Eyes shut, mouth slightly open, checks showed at least two maybe three days worth of scruff. John had been gone to see his sister for the last week so it was likely that Sherlock had not been out of the flat for longer than half an hour. But his breathing was soft and slow indicating a deep sleep, he didn't think he'd ever seen Sherlock look quite so…peaceful. The baby had his tiny little hand wrapped around the lapel of the older man's robe and was snoring lightly. John guessed he probably wasn't more than two or three months old. His hair was brown and thick and damp from a recent wash. A diaper bag sat on the floor next to the couch with its contents spilling out onto the floor. Bottles, clothes, wet wipes and diapers littered the hardwood and a dirty nappy was lying on the coffee table. He picked it up and carried it into the kitchen disposing of it before putting the kettle on to boil.

Perhaps Sherlock was just watching the child for a friend. Wait, no that couldn't be true since John was his only friend. Hum, perhaps he found the babe and decided to take it in until a more suitable home could be found for him. That was possible but seemed so…well, not like his best mate. Or perhaps Mycroft had something to do with. Hell, the baby could be some sort of experiment for all he knew.

The sound of a whimper from the living room drew his attention and he moved to the doorway and observed as Sherlock Holmes, perhaps the most irritating and impatient man he knew, raised up and stretched one arm above his head holding the baby close with the other arm.

"Oi Hamish, what is your issue now, hum? A dirty nappy? Feeding time? Let's see it's only been an hour since your last feeding so probably not that." Sherlock picked the baby up and sniffed his diaper. "Ah, most definitely a dirty diaper. Well, let's take care of that before you other Daddy gets home, though he should have already been home by now, its well after three."

"_Other Daddy?"_ Watson thought and felt a sting of jealousy that Sherlock had somehow without his knowledge acquired not only a baby but also a relationship with another man that was deep enough to garner such a commitment. His feelings for the other man had started the moment they meet. It had been a shot to the system and he had tried to fight it but some things just were. It was hard not to fall in love with Sherlock at any rate. For all his irritating qualities and inappropriate remarks concerning the cases they worked on, he was a good man, fiercely loyal, smart, and most decidedly handsome. John was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It burned him deeply to think that the detective did not share his feelings and had found someone else. He may not advertise the depth of his true feelings for the other man but he had hoped Sherlock would have figured it out.

"Oh, just wait until John gets a look at you. He will be pleased I'm sure. Though I will probably get a lecture about how I should have consulted with him first before taking you in. He can be so boring at times Hamish but you'll love him and I know he'll love you. Dr. John Watson has a soft spot for adorable things. He once brought home a dog that chased me around the flat for two hours before it feel over from exhaustion. Luckily Mrs. Hudson refused to let him keep it. Nasty creature's dogs are. Cats, now that's a very refined and elegant species. I tried to bring home a cat once but your other Daddy wouldn't allow it. Said we didn't have time to care for a cat." Sherlock spoke as he quickly removed the dirty diaper, creamed and powered the baby's bum and attached the closures on a new one. The expert way he handled the babe, Hamish apparently, was surprising. John didn't know Sherlock had ever been around a baby in his life.

"So I leave for five days to go visit family and you decide to get yourself a new flat-mate. I'm hurt." John spoke from the kitchen doorway. Sherlock's head snapped up and he smiled picking up the child who was cooing and looking at the other man like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Well, at least John and Hamish had something in common.

"This is Hamish. He is going to be staying with us until…well, indefinitely." The grin that the man shot the doctor was dead sexy and made John want to kiss it right off his face. He shook his head focusing on the baby currently being present to him for inspection.

"He's tiny," was the only thing he could say.

"Well, obviously," Sherlock remarked pushing Hamish into John's arms. "He's only three months old and half starved when I found him. Poor thing was in an alley behind the Rose and Crown Pub downtown. I found him when I was looking for a friend of mine. I was going to take him to Mycroft and demand that he do something with him but…" he trailed off and just stared at John and the baby.

"But?" John prompted.

"I just couldn't," came the reply as he marched past Watson to the stove. The kettle was whistling so he pulled cups and saucers and tea from the cupboard above his head.

"Only two bags Sherlock. I don't want mine to walk out of the cup thank you. And no sugar." He reminded the man receiving a grunt and a dismissive flick of his hand. The baby reached out and took hold of John's coat and jerked, almost as if to remind him he was holding him. He started down into the tiny blue eyes and couldn't help but smile. "My God, you are an adorable one aren't you?" He said this earning him a chuckle for the man in front of the stove.

"He's such a wonderful little baby. He doesn't cry often, only when he's hungry or in need of a change. He was sick when I first found him; a slight cold, dehydration and malnutrition but the doctors at the clinic assured me he would be fine with the proper care. He has a follow up tomorrow at two. He has a touch of asthma but nothing that isn't treatable. He likes rattles and likes when I play the violin. He's going to a smart one I can already tell." This was said with no small amount of pride. If John didn't know any better he would swear Sherlock was the baby's father but since he knew that to be completely false, as his flat-mate was still a virgin and as far as he knew liked men, he was instead amazed at how quickly his mate had bonded with the child.

"I didn't know you had it in you." John said without thinking. Sherlock turned his head raising his brow, the tea stooping behind him on the counter.

"What do you mean?" He asked walking toward John. The look on his face while he read John's meaning went from confused to heartbroken to irritation in three second flat. "Ah, didn't think the irritable, impatient, smart arse had it in him to love another human being. Didn't think I would be the kind to keep a child I found in an alley behind a pub. I'm disappointed in you Watson. I thought you knew me better than that." The hurt in those last eight words was evident and made John feel like a total heel.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I…It's just that…Well, with anyone else you're all irritated and impatient and annoyed. Babies are different; you can't be that way with a baby. They need to be nurtured and cared for with a firm but gentle hand. I just worried that this was some sort of experiment for you." The words tumbled out of his mouth without thought or editing. The hurt expression on the other man's face was back.

"An experiment? You think I would do something as…unsavory as experiment on a child. I'll admit that I'm not the most gentle man in the world and I have often expressed joy at the plight of others even children but never, _never_ have I used one as an experiment." He reached out and took Hamish from John. His face was hard and he looked as if he might slug John. He'd have every right to.

"I'm sorry. That didn't come out right." John said as Sherlock turned and retreated to his bedroom. The door slammed cutting off any further explanation from the doctor. He walked over and thought for a moment about knocking but couldn't make his arm cooperate. He heard his mate talking gently to the baby. John couldn't hear what was being said but from the sound of his voice and the creaking of the floor boards he imagined Sherlock was talking to Hamish quite animatedly. The soft cooing that followed seemed to be Hamish's reply to whatever the detective was telling him.

He felt like a total arse for having said such things to his best friend but they had been no less than the truth. John just hoped that when Sherlock emerged he would be willing to accept an apology. The fact that he had been referring to the doctor as the baby's "other Daddy" didn't escape his notice either and he felt a tickle of joy at the thought that maybe, he hadn't been replaced. Maybe there was a future for them. And just maybe, having Hamish was the first stepping stone to that future.

It was after six before Sherlock came back out of his room and John was sitting in his chair by the fireplace waiting for him. The detective didn't even acknowledge his presence as he carried Hamish over to the couch and sat down. He grabbed the remote and flipped on the telly. The silence stretched out, thick enough to cut with a knife, only the sound of some children's show and Hamish's cooing could be heard. Sherlock pulled one leg up on the sofa under him and adjusted the baby into a comfortable position.

"Mrs. Hudson came by earlier to ask about the baby. She said if we need her just to knock and she'd be more than happy to help us with him." John finally said at length and received only a grunting sound in reply. Hamish sat on Sherlock's knee holding onto his arms and watching the little puppet on the screen counting apples with interest. Every so often he'd look across the room at John and give him a smile before turning his head up to look at Sherlock and do the same. He was beyond adorable and obviously happy to have found himself a home.

"Sherlock, I'm…" he stopped when the other man looked at him. The hurt expression was still there and the slight reddening of Sherlock's eyes was evidence he had been crying.

"You're sorry, apology accepted, would you please go into the kitchen and make Hamish a bottle. It's getting close to time for his feeding." The tone of voice was dismissive and John felt a little hurt that his attempt at an apology had been waved off with no more regard than it was given. He was sorry, he truly and honestly was. What did Sherlock expect of him? The man he knew barely tolerated anyone outside of his own company. How was he supposed to know that the man had a soft spot for this child? It wasn't something he could explain and therefore it confused him.

"Sure," was all John said as he got up and went into the kitchen. The can of formula sat on the counter beside the breadbox and the bottles were lined up straight like little soldiers just to the right of it. He picked up the can and read the instructions on how to make the bottle. Shaking the contents vigorously he went back into the living room. Sherlock looked up at him then down and Hamish.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked the baby as he picked him up and repositioned him on his lap. When Hamish saw the bottle in John's hand he began to squirm and reach out making a sound that was almost a word and smacking his lips. The doctor smiled and sat down beside his friend on the couch. He tried to hand the bottle over to Sherlock but he shook his head.

"Move over here next to me and feed him. I'll hold him while you hold the bottle. You should talk to him as well and look at his face. The books all say it helps with the bonding process, especially for new fathers." John's body jerked slightly at the suggestion. It didn't bother him, at least not in the way that it should have. Instead he felt a little bubble of happiness creeping up inside him and settling around his heart. John should probably have reminded Sherlock that he hadn't even asked him about being a part of the baby's life. Sherlock had just assumed. But he could because despite any arguments he could make this child was going to be just as much his as his friends. He scooted closer and held the bottle up. Hamish latched onto the nipple in an instant and brought his tiny little hands up to wrap around John's fingers. The feel of the soft baby fingers closing around his own rougher ones was the most amazing thing John had ever felt and the look that came to his face was pure wonder.

"Amazing isn't it?" Sherlock asked as he pressed a small kiss to the baby's forehead and rubbed one long fingered pale hand over his brown hair. "How one tiny human can fill something inside you that even you didn't know was missing." The words were surprising and exactly what John was trying to find to explain the feelings inside him. Hamish was like the final puzzle piece falling into place. He felt like a king feeding the child. His leg was pressed close to Sherlock's and his other hand rested on the man's thigh. The move had been unconscious but he didn't move it now. The heat from his flat-mates skin warmed his palm and the silk of his pants. The contact made it all real and perfect.

Everything was just perfect.


	2. Gates of Happiness

CHAPTER 2: Gates of Happiness

"Love is the master key which opens the gates of happiness."

-Oliver Wendell Holmes

A month and a half had passed since John had come home to find Sherlock asleep on the couch with baby Hamish. The routine that the three of them had settled into worked well and Hamish was growing by leaps and bounds. He was starting to pull himself up and move around more, his body was changing to. The scrawny little baby that John had first meet was starting to fill out and there was a healthful glow in his cheeks.

Sherlock and John showed the child off as if he were the last of his kind. Tongues were wagging over the new addition to their lives and for once John didn't feel the need to deny his involvement with his flatmate, even if the relationship was still completely platonic. He knew what it looked like. They were raising a child together. There was no longer any use in the furious denials of his feelings for his flatmate.

By agreement they had not been actively looking for any new cases and John had accepted a job in the surgery that paid well and offered him very flexible hours. There had been a couple of simple cases that Sherlock had taken, leaving John or Mrs. Hudson at home to care for Hamish while he was out. He was careful to never be gone more than a few hours at a time. To John's surprise he was quite the mother hen.

Nothing was too good for the boy. Sherlock had gone overboard buying baby toys and clothes. Anything and everything that the baby could possibly need or want. Every closet in the flat was filled almost to overflowing with clothing and toys that Hamish had yet to play with because they were beyond his skill level. There were three toy boxes throughout the flat. One in the bedroom for bedtime toys such as stuffed animals, another in the living room filled with playtime toys like blocks and action figures, and another still in the kitchen for what Sherlock called "experiment" toys. These consisted of some plastic beakers, goggles, lab coat, some kind of green jelly like substance that made noise and a set of play tools complete with a handsaw.

Mycroft had even been by a few times to visit with his nephew and to deliver papers for John and Sherlock concerning the adoption of Hamish. Though the relationship between the brothers was no better or worse, Mycroft played the proud uncle to the little boy and showered him with gifts and affection. He had tried to get Sherlock to agree to let Hamish come stay with him for a few hours at the office so he could boost about him to his colleagues but his request had been adamantly denied. Sherlock had told Mycroft in so many words that his child would never set foot into the kind of government office that his brother ran so long as he was alive. The whole situation was a little unnerving for the doctor. He was not used to this side of the brothers.

However, nighttime was his favorite. They had moved a small cot into Sherlock's room in the corner for John so he could be close to help with Hamish on his off nights at the surgery. The midnight feedings and fussy tummy aches that required pacing the floor for hours at a time didn't bother him. He was up and out of the bed at the first distressed whimper. He would pick up the child and wrap his tightly in his arms and talk to him, soothing him in whatever way he could. Probably, his favorite memories from the past weeks were when Sherlock would wake up and walk with them, draping his arm around John's shoulders or waist while they both talked to the baby, or when he'd just sit on the bed and watch John with their child.

_Their child,_ the words seemed so right somehow. Like nothing else in John's life had ever made since until this tiny little human being came into his life. Hamish was a miracle that John wasn't even aware he'd been searching for but then again his mother had always said that the miracle's you receive when you aren't looking for them were the best kind. Somehow though he didn't think she would have been quite so accepting of his current situation. Lord knows his poor parents had about had a fit over Harry.

"Hamish Watson Holmes," a nurse called from the doorway of the clinic. People turned and looked at the two men as they gathered up the child and the toys he had been playing with. John balanced Hamish on his hip as Sherlock stuffed toys into the diaper bag and his coat pockets. Once when Lestrade had needed them to work a particularly difficult case he had been looking for his magnifying glass in his pocket and had amused everyone when he had pulled out a little toy phone and a small army man. Sherlock had just shrugged and said: "Such things happen when you have a child." The way he said it had made John's heart swell and even Sally had given a little smile.

As the nurse led them down the short hallway to the examination room Hamish thrust his arms out toward Sherlock and grabbed at his coat.

"Da, da, da…" He repeated as John passed the baby off to his other parent. Sherlock smiled brightly at the child and Hamish returned the gesture. Sherlock surprised him more and more everyday with his affection and attention with the child. He began to wonder if maybe Sherlock had just labeled himself a sociopath because it was easier to have a label than to admit he was just hurt and lonely. Either way, it warmed John's heart to watch them, to watch Sherlock be so…loving, and the nurse didn't even try to hide the look on her face. She appeared to be fascinated by the trio and when she noticed she was being observed smiled and gave John a wink.

"My brother and I were adopted by a homosexual couple when we were very young. I'm always reminded of them when I see two men with a child. Nothing is better than giving a child a home and hope that they can have a future. Dr. Milson will be with you shortly." She closed the door behind her. Sherlock sat the child down on the little examination table and pulled a couple of the toys he had stuffed into his coat pocket out for him. They stood side by side watching as Hamish picked them up and put them in his mouth, slobbering all over them and chewing. Without a thought John slipped his arm around Sherlock and lend against his side. It was an unconscious move and one that made Sherlock stiffen and look down at him. He quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," he apologized looking up but quickly turned his gaze back down the Hamish.

Sherlock watched him closely. He hadn't meant to stiffen when John touched him it was just…well, John never really initiated any of their "touching", it was always Sherlock, so the fact that he had had surprised the detective. He looked down at the little boy currently chewing on the head of an army man and felt his heart soften. He knew that it went against his sociopathic nature to care for a child. He'd never officially been diagnosed anyway, he reasoned as he slipped his gaze over to the man beside him. Ever since John had come into his life he had questioned if he were truly _incapable_ of love. He knew now that he wasn't. John had shown him that having a heart, letting emotions show and _feeling_ was not a weakness, it was strength. Having someone you could rely upon, completely depend on and know that no matter what they would always be there was the most amazing strength that anyone could have. Sherlock felt well and truly happy to know that he had that in John and now with Hamish.

"It's okay," he replied finally and slipped his arm around John, urging him to do the same. When the shorter man did Sherlock smiled at him and tilted his head down to rub his cheek against the thick salt and pepper hair of his companion. The way John leaned against him and held his head slightly raised to allow him to nuzzle spoke of his feelings for the detective. It was hard not to notice. John was so horrible at hiding such feelings, most especially from his friend.

A knock on the door brought their heads up and around. They didn't release each other instead moving as one when Dr. Milson came into the room. He was an older man, in his late fifties with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The doctor was thick through the middle and walked with a slight limp in his right leg which suggested to Sherlock he had either injured it or suffered from some sort of disorder in the joint. Factoring in the man's weight and his age he deduced it was probably arthritis.

"Good morning Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson," his greeted them in a pleasant voice which instantly had Hamish looking up from his toys to watch the progress of the man across the room. Sherlock observed the child as he seemed to eye the doctor, observing him as if to try to make up his little mind if he liked this man or not. Dr. Milson was a physician Mycroft had recommended they use as he was well known and well respected in the field of children's medicine.

"Dr. Milson it's a pleasure." John replied with equal pleasantness and with the same interest as Hamish. Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

"So, how is our little patient today? Hum? I see you have made several improvements just in your physical appearance from the notes on your last visit with Dr. Bridgeman. His muscles are feeling out nicely and his eyes are bright and alert. Has he had any symptoms that you have noticed? How is his diaper rash? Dr. Bridgeman notes said he had a rather severe case when you first brought him in as well as dehydration and malnutrition. I can see from his physical improvements that those are not so much of an issue now. How are his eating habits? Sleeping?" John answered the doctors' questions as he and Sherlock stood off to the side and allowed Dr. Milson to see to Hamish.

No, they hadn't noticed any symptoms other than a slight cough and whiz from the asthma. The diaper rash was healed and his bowl movements were normal. He ate ever four to six hours like he should and he slept through the night most times. All in all he was a very well adjusted, healthy baby.

"Well, then I think we can push his next check-up off for say another month unless there is any other problems which he develops. On a personal note I'd like to add that the two of you are doing a fine job of caring for this child. He seems very happy and he is progressing at a normal rate. I am worried about the asthma. Do either of you smoke?" The question made John smile and Sherlock growl.

"Not anymore. Sherlock did for a while but he's been quit for ages now. I never picked up the habit thankfully." He replied as he began to gather toys and stuff them into Sherlock's pockets. His hand brushed against his companions' hip and thigh and it did not escape his notice that Sherlock would turn slightly away as if to avoid the contact. He frowned at that but when he chanced a glance down he realized the tent in Sherlock's trousers. A grin spread across his face as he lifted his eyes back up. Sherlock wasn't looking at him; instead he was staring intently at Hamish and Dr. Milson. Observing doctor and baby as they interacted.

He was hard! Oh, John had begun to wonder if Sherlock felt the physical attraction that he did. It was clear now that he felt something at least, which was more than he had shown John ever. He finished with the toys and as he stepped over to Sherlock's other side he let the back of his hand brush casually against the front of his mates trousers. The quick intake of breath and the jerk of his hips made John smile. He let his fingers trail across the other man's thigh and up to his hip and further to his side. He was careful to keep his hand hidden from Dr. Milson and Hamish, no need drawing attention to them.

"Follow me out to the front." Dr. Milson instructed as he gathered Hamish's chart and opened the door. John grabbed the child up and started off after the doctor leaving Sherlock to follow behind. They were nearly to the front when he felt something pressing against his back just barely touching the top of his behind. Warm fingers slipped under his jumper and pressed against the skin of his back and brushed just inside the top of his trousers. He glanced over his shoulder. Sherlock smiled at him suggestively.

John returned the gesture and shifted Hamish higher on his hip. He had such high hopes for that gleam in Sherlock's eyes. Such high hopes.

As they walked out of the clinic to hail a cab to take them back to Baker Street John felt the hand on his back dip lower until four of Sherlock's fingers were brushing against the bare skin at the top of his rear. He shivered and had to struggle to surpass a moan. He glanced down at Hamish who was busy chewing on the head of an army man and watching the cars pass by. Warm breath against his ear caused him to close his eyes and swallow hard.

"I hope Mrs. Hudson is home when we get back to the flat because I need to speak with you," Sherlock whispered nipping at the space behind John's ear. "Privately."


	3. The Truth About Forever

Chapter 3: The Truth About Forever

"There is never a time or place for true love.

It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat,

in a single flashing, throbbing moment."

-Sarah Dessen, _The Truth About Forever_

John's hope for _finally_ being able to take their relationship to the next level died when the family returned to Baker Street. Lestrade was waiting for them; Sherlock was needed on a case of a man who had been found lying on the banks of the Thames.

"Can't you lot do anything?" Sherlock growled as he looked at the DI standing in his living room. _Bloody fucking hell!_ All he had wanted to do was get home and get John under him! Was it too much to ask for a little time to spend with the man he _loved_, a little time to take that one step into the physical. Sherlock had waited several years now for this moment and by God if Lestrade wasn't going to destroy it.

"Sherlock," John chided as he sat down in his armchair with Hamish.

"Hey there, Hamish. How is my favorite junior consulting detective doing, hum? Daddy driving you batty yet? God knows he drives your Uncle Mycroft nuts from what I hear and he doesn't do much better for Uncle Greg." Lestrade murmured to the child which earned him a growl from John.

"Can't the two of you please not fight in front of the baby, just this once? You're upsetting him." John could feel the child's little body start to tense as he sensed the tension between the adults in the room. If he thought it would do any good he'd make Lestrade leave but he knew the mood had been ruined and Sherlock would eventually start wandering about the case after the DI was gone until he finally excused himself to go have a look. It would save them all several hours of frustration if Sherlock just went and did what Lestrade asked. It wouldn't take him more than an hour at the crime scene to deduce every possible detail he could gather.

"Fine!" Sherlock nearly screamed as he flicked his hand at the DI dismissively. The very last thing he wanted was to upset his son by arguing with the Detective Inspector. "I'll follow along but you know I don't ride in patrol cars." With a muttered thanks Lestrade left and Sherlock turned to John.

"I'm sorry, I really wanted to…" He stopped when John simply shook his head and smiled at him.

"Go," he said quietly as he cradled Hamish close and looked across the room at his friend. "We'll be here when you get back."

Sherlock watched him for a moment, just stood there and looked at him while he stared back and Hamish cooed and babbled happily from John's lap. The scene was so…pretty. The three of them, a family. Sherlock moved across the room, his long legs eating up the distance and without a word swooped down and taking John's face between his hands kissed him. The first brush of his friends lips against his was soft and teasing, a test to see how it felt. Sherlock pulled back and looked down into John's eyes turned dark with unsatisfied hunger. Electricity arched between them and quickened both heartbeat and pulse. Sherlock felt like his whole body was a live wire waiting to spark and he loved it. No high he'd ever gotten in his life had been as all-consuming as one brush of John's lips. He dipped his head again and laid his mouth over the doctors.

John was helpless under the assault of Sherlock's mouth on his. For a man who had no real experience with matters of physical attraction and intimacy he kissed like he did all other things, with an all-consuming passion and fire that swept you away and left you floating. He rode that high with his mate waiting for the end. Sherlock used his whole mouth in the kiss. Tongue reached out and tangled with his before retreating back, teeth nipped his lower lip and held on long enough to sting before his lips came back to kiss the bruised flesh. By the time Sherlock was done John was weak with lust and desire. It was cliché and completely stupid but he was. No one had elicited the kind of response in him. Ever.

Sherlock pulled back slowly not waiting to break the contact. He rested his forehead against John's and his breath ghosted over his friends face.

"An hour, maybe two at the most." Sherlock muttered and John wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or him.

"Go," John said pulling back and kissing the middle of Sherlock's forehead, absorbing the warmth of his skin on his chilled, wet lips.

Without another word Sherlock was up and out the door. John looked down at Hamish who was staring at him with those blue eyes that had done him in the very first time he'd looked at the child. He was afraid that as Hamish got older he'd realize their effect on him and use them to try to get his way. John shook his head. Nah, Sherlock would be more than firm enough for both of them.

"Look at you," he said and chuckled. "Let see what we can find to get into while your daddy is gone."

The hour Sherlock had thought it would take turned into almost eight and one horribly long foot chase through downtown. By the time that he got back to the flat it was dark and John and Hamish were asleep in his bed. John was laying on his back with his arm stretched out to the side gripping the extra pillow while Hamish snuggled against his bare chest and side. The child looked content and a small smile tipped his lips up at the corners.

Sherlock took a moment to appreciate the sight of John lying in his sheets before taking in the scene as a whole. The man he loved and their son lying together in his bed in their home. The mere thought of it made his heart skip and his stomach tighten. He had been so scared for so long that he would never find this and yet within the space of a month and a half here it was. He had a _family_, an honest to God family. He had never been close to his parents and Mycroft drove him crazy with his constant goings on. Here though was true family and true friendship.

He moved quietly around the room and stripped off his clothes, changing into his sleeping trousers. He thought about putting on a shirt but decided against it. He wanted to feel John's skin against his, even if it was only while they slept. Sherlock considered waking his friend up and putting Hamish in his crib. He and John could be quite if they had to. But he decided against it and instead crawled into the bed and curled up against John.

As soon as his arm slipped around the doctor John jerked up and awake, shifting Hamish farther behind him as if to protect him. Sherlock smiled at the instinctive gesture.

"Sherlock," John said as he moved to lie back down. He smiled up at him and reached out his hand to stroke his arm. "When did you get in?"

"Just now," he whispered moving to stretch out against John's side. He reached around him and stroked Hamish's hair. "I'm sorry it took so long. I ended up having to chase the murder halfway across London on foot. Lestrade should really consider hiring more athletic officers." John chuckled as he turned his head into Sherlock's bare chest and nuzzled his skin.

"Hamish missed you. We were playing with the floor mat that Mycroft bought him and every so often he'd look up and say 'Da' and look at the door. I kept telling him you'd be home soon."

"I wish I could have come home sooner. If Lestrade would…"

"Sherlock, don't be mean." John chided playfully and nipped at his friend's chest. Sherlock sucked in a breath, gave a deep throated moan, and everything stopped. John went completely still and kept his eyes on the piece of flesh he had just bitten, watching as it reddened prettily from his little punishment. Sherlock's breathing picked up and became shallow. John chanced a glance down and saw the hard line of his erection outlined against the silk of his sleeping trousers.

"John," the detective whispered against his ear pulling his head up and looking straight into eyes gone dark with lust. John's own body tightened and he licked his suddenly dry lips.

He shifted closer to Sherlock careful to not disturb Hamish in the process. He rolled until he rested his body on top of the other mans with their lower bodies aligned. The hardness tripped behind their sleeping trousers brushed against each other and John fought to keep from thrusting. Not with Hamish here, in bed with them. Not with Hamish in the room period.

"We could put Hamish in his crib." Sherlock suggested as he ran his hands over John's bare back and rose up to press a kiss to his bare shoulder and chest.

"No," John said with a shake of his head. "I don't like the thought of him hearing us. It doesn't feel right to have him in the room with us." He lowered his head and kissed Sherlock's mouth, holding himself back. For tonight kisses and some light touching would do. Tomorrow they would take Hamish to Mrs. Hudson and have their time.

Sherlock rubbed his shoulders as he kissed him, holding him close, trying to coax him into moving his hips by bucking his own. A soft whimper broke their heated embrace and John plopped down on the bed beside Sherlock. Hamish's eyes were still closed but his little body was curled up and his fists were squeezed tightly together.

"He must be having a bad dream." Sherlock said as he reached over to scoop the child into his arms.

"My poor baby," he cooed to the child as he cradled him close in one arm while stroking his smooth pale cheek with the fingers of the other.


End file.
